Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 251: what you’re looking at

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238 have yet a few minutes for private discourse: have the goodness to step down with me into my cabin.” I followed Durazzo thither; and on gaining his beautifully appointed dwelling-place, he at once addressed me, in a low but firm voice, to the fol- lowing effect :— “ Amidst the chances of strite I may fall, Mr. Wilmot; and it is also probable for the moment to arrive when it may seem that the Athene must become a prey to the Austrian. But whatsoever may happen to me, that catastrophe cannot occur to the ship:—for there is a solemn compact amongst us that we are wxever to surrender. A spark to the powder-room is tke alternative to be adopted. Should that moment come, yourself, the Austrian prisoner, and Cosmo shall be duly cared for. A boat can be rapidly lowered; and into this shall ye all three be put. To this effect will I issue orders to those next to mein command. And now—I mean in the case which I haye sup- posed, but which I flatter myself is little likely nevertheless, if it should occur, you must do my last behest towards Leonora. You may tell her all the truth. Better for her to hear it deli- cately and considerately broken from your lips, than vauntingly proclaimed by the unfeeling Austrians! Say what you will of me: but fail not to give her the assurance that I loved her— nay, adored her unto the very last ; and that what- soever glory might be gained by such a desperate deed as this, I craved it only that it might render my name all the less odious in her eyes. For there is something, Wilmot, in a feat of dauntless daring that compensates for much of the iniquity of a life such as mine !” “T swear that I will do your bidding!” I an- swered: and I must confess that I experienced at the instant no inconsiderable degree of emotion. “But in the provision which you made for the safety of some of us, you included not Lan- Dver os “ Ah, the worthless lump of carrion!” ejaculated Durazzo, with the most unfeigned disgust. “I hate him—hate him, for your sake! But I see that your merciful disposition would intercede on behalf of even a wretch such as he, and despite his iniquities towards yourself and those whom you love. Well, be it so! If the emergency should happen, you shall fiad him amidst those who are to be consigned to the boat.” * And that young page?” I said: “he seems at least to be innocent of any active co-opera- tion S “Ah! I had forgotten him!” rejoined Durazzo. “Yes—he, poor boy, must he saved. He isan orphan—he was a schoolfellow of mine—and he attached himself to me as if he were a younger brother. But plead for no more—or there would be none left to blow up into the air along with the good ship Athene !” I recoiled from these concluding words, which struck me as being uttered with a horrible mock- ing flippancy: but Durazzo, penetrating my thoughts, said hastily, “Do not think me cruel— do not think me ferocious. I am not naturally so. But a man may speak lightly of casualties which are the most horrible: or he perhaps would not be enabled to look them calmly in the face. And now I must return to the deck. But you, Wilmot " JOSEPH WILMOT; OR; THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. ee ee ee ee + 3 ” < . “- “ With your permission I will accompany you,’ I answered. “Shall you witness the combat?” inquired Du- raszo, gazing on me with astonishment. “T think,” I responded, “that I have sufficient curiosity for that purpose.” “Be it so,” rejoined Durazzo: and then he added in an impressive tone, ‘‘ But beware how you touch a rope, or approach a gun, or even suc- coura wounded man! For if from the deck of the Austrian you be seen taking part, however slightly in the conflict, the story you have to tell would not fora single instant avail you: and if the worst happened, you would be picked up in the boat only to be hanged at the yard-arm asa pirate |” Thanking Durazzo for his advice, I followed him to the deck. On reaching it, I looked at once in the direction of the Tyrol; and as for the last twenty minutes the schooner had been lying to, the Austrian frigate had approached considerably nearer than when [ saw her last. Her hull was now completely visible; aud she came on under a press of canvass. The Athene continued to remain quiet; and in a few minutes more, the streak of white paint, dotted with the black ports, which in- dicates a man-of-war, was plainly perceptible along the side of the Tyrol. “ Now, Mr. Wilmot,” said Durazzo to me, “ the period of excitement is at hand. I am about to give the order to clear the ship for action; and L should advise you to go down below.” “ Not for the present, at all events,’ I an- swered,— at least if I have your permission to remain on deck P” “ Follow your own inclinations,” rejoined the young corsair-chief; “ and whatever may happen within the next few hours—if death should be my doom—think in after-life as leniently as you can of one who could have wished to have gone on per- forming throughout a friendly part towards you!” Without waiting for areply, Durazzo turned ab- ruptly away from me; and again his calm clear voice went pealing forth in its full tide of manly harmony, issuing the command for all hands to clear the Athene for battle. Then uprose from the deck of the corsair-vessel such a tremendous shout of joy, that it went rolling over the sea as a pre- lude to the thunder-voice in which the ship itself was presently to speak. That shout lasted but tor a few instants: then all was still once more, so far as men’s voices were concerned,—though the live- liest activity now prevailed from stem to stern throughout the long sweep of the schooner’s deck. Several of the sailors too sprang up into the rig- ging to make such preparations as might there be necessary, and to sling the yards in chains as a precaution against their being easily shot away if merely sustained by their ropes. Tt was in the midst of all this bustle and excife- ment—but a bustle ana excitement in which no con- fusion could be discerned— where every man kuew his place as well as his own specific duty,—that hap- pening to glance towards the top of the staircase, f perceived the countenance of Lanover peering forth upon the scene. Never shall I forget the look which that countenance wore. It was hideous: while the face itself was ghastly with the mingied bewilderment, terror, and dismay that it expressed. The man appeared scarcely able to believe the evi ame (re rm nn a a a EE CORNICGLOOK co